


Work it harder, make it better, do it faster.

by DropsOfAddiction



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Beacon Hills High School, Biting, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Closet Sex, Come Eating, Coming Untouched, Cupboard Sex, Danger, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Grumpy Derek Hale, Hand Jobs, Hands, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Licking, M/M, Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Porn with Feelings, Protective Derek, Quick and Dirty, Scenting, Some Plot, Spit As Lube, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAddiction/pseuds/DropsOfAddiction
Summary: Derek covers Stiles’ mouth with his hand again.He steps in closer to him and speaks right against Stiles’ ear.“Stiles, just shut up!” Derek growls.Stiles licks him for good measure, running his tongue wetly and enthusiastically all over his hand, just to be a dick. Derek let’s him go with a soft growl.Stiles can smell him and he gets an insane urge to kiss his stupid face.He hasn’t seen Derek in months; he still can’t really see him technically, just his outline, but boy does he smell good.Stiles get’s a nose full of leather, lime (Derek’s stupid posh shower gel that he insists on buying) and an underlying fresh scent of the woods.Stiles desperately tries to think of his Babcia’s fish casserole, custard pudding and for good measure, those weird angler fish he saw on Animal planet.He tries to think of literally anything in the world that is unsexy because Derek will probably rip his head off if he smells Stiles’ bodily reaction to his close proximity.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 48
Kudos: 1510
Collections: Sterek love





	Work it harder, make it better, do it faster.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year! This turned a bit fast and frantic- I’m sure if you look really hard there’s a plot somewhere... slipping through my fingers...

Stiles Stilinski knows he must have been a very bad person in a past life. He knows with certainty that he must have been a serial killer or at the very least someone who drowned little puppies.

It’s the only explanation he can think of for why the universe is punishing him so horrendously in this lifetime. 

He wheezes deeply, trying to take in oxygen into his throbbing lungs. He’s getting out of breath and the muscles in his legs burn; he pushes through the pain. 

One benefit of being a bona fied FBI agent means he’s had to maintain a certain level of physical fitness over the past two years and for the first time ever, he’s thankful for that free gym membership. Hooray for cardio.

He chances a look over his shoulder but he can’t see the thing that’s chasing him anymore. Maybe he’s lost it?

He didn’t get a good look at it before it tried to chew his face off but he saw enough sharp teeth to know he had to get the hell out of dodge.

The damn thing had been chewing on the number plate of his rental car as he’d channeled his inner Usain Bolt and sprinted for the nearest building.

He’d lucked out at where he’d ended up. At least he knows his way around the halls of Beacon Hills High School. He thanks the heavens the kids are out for winter break.

He tiptoes exaggeratedly around a corner near his old Chemistry classroom, gun drawn, although he thinks that it probably won’t do shit against whatever the ever-loving crap that hell-beast was.

From what he’d seen of it, the only thing he can liken it to is a smaller version of a Warg... and unless there has been an influx of Orcs in Beacon Hills since he’s been away at work, he needs to get to his Pop’s house to research what it is ASAP and find out how to get rid of it.

A loud clang makes him jump and he shrieks (in a very manly fashion, thank you very much). He hears a snarl from the end of the corridor and the scratching of sharp claws on the tiles. 

He glimpses a leathery head swinging back and forth, sniffing the air. Stiles realises in horror it’s searching. It’s hunting. For him.

His gun is raised when he takes a step back into the open doorway of the Chemistry classroom. He tries to regulate his breathing, walking backwards slowly, trying to shut the door silently with his spare hand.

The door clicks shut audibly, the noise echoing down the hall and he winces, freezing. Then he hears a feral roar from just outside, shaking the door frame.

He yelps loudly, stumbling backward away from the door and he almost faints (again, in a very manly way, let the record show your honour) when he feels something at his back. 

Before he can turn and shoot he’s being yanked backwards into a walk-in supply closet and he’s plunged into almost total darkness. There’s just a tiny sliver of light coming in from underneath the door. 

There’s barely any room to stand in there and a body is pressed right up against Stiles’ front. He drops his gun, there’s no room to shoot now anyway.

He’s about to start screaming when a large hand covers his mouth, pressing down insistently.

Stiles bites down hard and he swallows his cry for help because he would know that angry, pained grunt anywhere.

“Derek?!” He whispers furiously, feeling around in front of him.

His hands meet stubble and then leather and he lets out an audible sigh of relief.

Derek covers Stiles’ mouth with his hand again.

He steps in closer to him and speaks right against Stiles’ ear.

“Stiles, Shut up!” Derek growls.

Stiles licks him for good measure, running his tongue wetly and enthusiastically all over his hand, just to be a dick. Derek let’s him go with a soft growl. 

Stiles can smell him and he gets an insane urge to kiss his stupid face.

He hasn’t seen Derek in months; he still can’t really see him technically, just his outline, but boy does he smell good. Stiles get’s a nose full of leather, lime (Derek’s stupid posh shower gel that he insists on buying) and an underlying fresh scent of the woods.

Stiles desperately tries to think of his Babcia’s fish casserole, custard pudding and for good measure, those weird angler fish he saw on Animal planet. He tries to think of literally anything in the world that is unsexy because Derek will probably rip his head off if he smells Stiles’ bodily reaction to his close proximity.

“That thing is right outside, you need to be quiet,” Derek’s breath is warm against his ear, voice gravelly.

“Thank you so much for dragging me into this mess the second I’m back in town,” Stiles growls sarcastically at him, giving his leather jacket a yank for good measure.

“You knew what you were getting into when I asked you to meet me,” Derek huffs, defensive.

Stiles knows he’s in big trouble because he knows exactly what Derek’s eyebrows looks like right now, when he’s frowning.

“Technically, I didn’t!” Stiles says, indignant.

“No... I told you... I was going to show you where I’d been tracking it to see if you’d have any ideas what it would be. From its hunting patterns...” Derek tells him.

“What! No... you said, and I quote, “Hey Stiles, heard you’re back in town, hope we can catch up. Meet me in the car park on the corner of 5th near the School,” Stiles is getting angry.

Derek grunts right in his ear.

“Fine. See. I told you,” Derek whispers.

“God, you’re so annoying!” Stiles turns his head and tries to ignore the way his nose brushes against Derek’s stubble.

A loud crash sounds from outside the cupboard and the light from outside flickers as a shape passes over the gaps at the bottom of the door, making the shadows dance. It seems the beasty didn’t have trouble opening a door.

Derek presses impossibly closer, crowding him up against the shelving, hands either side of Stiles’ head.

Stiles holds on tight to Derek’s front and prays the creature outside hasn’t got a special boner sense, otherwise they’re both screwed.

Claws click faintly and then even more faintly again, as the thing moves away. Derek’s stiff posture and slightly tilted head suggests he’s listening for it’s retreat.

Stiles knows when it’s gone fully because Derek sags against him, breathing deeply.

“I can’t believe you dragged me all the way down here for this,” Stiles grumps.

“Well, what did you think you were coming down for? A sleepover?” Derek asks, frustration lacing his words.

“Beers... a catch up...” Stiles offers angrily.

“What.” Derek says flatly and he sounds confused. 

Stiles can feel Derek looking at him and knows he can see him with his supernatural vision.

Stiles licks his lips nervously.

Derek shifts against him and Stiles has to bite back on a groan. 

“I thought... just maybe... you’d heard I was back in town and considering we hadn’t seen each other for nearly four months you might want to hang out... and get some beers,” Stiles’ tone is clipped.

“Why?” Derek asks and he genuinely sounds baffled.

“Because you like my company? Because, stupid me thought maybe you don’t just want me for my monster research skills!” Stiles is pissed.

Derek’s silence is worse than his puzzlement that Stiles would consider them friends.

“Just... Forget it...” Stiles pushes lightly against Derek to get him to move back a little but it’s like hitting a brick wall with a feather. 

“No.” Derek growls.

“No what? Jesus, you’re infuriating,” Stiles just wants out of the cupboard and out of this situation.

“No. I don’t want to forget it.” Derek grunts.

“Right, well that’s funny, because now I do want to forget it, so is that thing gone? I’ll be on my merry way if so...” Stiles wriggles uncomfortably against Derek’s front earning him a flash of red eyes illuminating the darkness.

Stiles hates himself for the fact that it makes his dick harder than ever, rather than making him piss his pants in terror. 

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Derek punctuates his words with a drag of his nose on the soft skin on Stiles’ neck.

Stiles chokes out a whine.

“Oh, do you know what... that’s it. Fuck you Derek. You’re an asshole, I knew that anyway and do you know, I kind of like that. But I never thought you were a sadist, yet here we...” Stiles doesn’t get to finish his tirade because Derek pings on the little closet light overhead and promptly seals his lips to his.

The kiss is fast, wet and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly one million times hotter than anything Stiles has ever been able to conjure in his mind while he jerked off.

Derek pulls back and he looks shocked at himself and his eyes are absolutely wild. His dark hair is sticking up erratically and Stiles notices it’s longer than when he saw him last. 

Stiles imagines how good it would feel if he got his hands in it, holding Derek’s head still as he fucked his dick in and out of his mouth and he has to bite his lip or this might be over before it even starts.

“What the actual fuck...” Stiles says eloquently.

“I don’t want to ‘just’ be your friend. I found out you were back and I couldn’t think of an excuse to see you so I thought you could help me with this and I’d get to see you,” Derek snarls.

Stiles feels his face split into a mega watt grin which Derek echoes briefly, although his is predatory and Stiles yanks him in by his leather jacket again.

Derek fucks his tongue into Stiles’ mouth obscenely and it gets desperate quickly. Stiles muses that this is exactly what four years of unresolved sexual tension can do to someone.

They fumble with each other’s clothes, Stiles laughing softly into Derek’s mouth. Derek bites his lip hard when Stiles gets a hand on him and wraps his fingers tightly around his dick.

Derek feels huge and heavy in his palm and Stiles loses himself in thinking what it’s going to be like to feel his beautiful cock at the back of his throat. His brain short circuits when Derek gets a hand in the back of his jeans and on his ass.

Derek pulls him roughly against him and when he digs his fingers hard into Stiles’ ass cheeks, Stiles throws his head back banging it on the shelf and he groans loudly.

Derek bites at his neck as he fumbles Stiles’ jeans down. He yanks Stiles’ boxers roughly under his ass, exposing his cheeks and leaves them trapping his dick.

Stiles twists his wrist relentlessly on Derek’s dick in retaliation and Derek’s teeth feel too long to be human when he sucks at his neck, marking him.

“Fuck, yes Der, yes, yes, yes,” Stiles pants.

Derek flips them around in the absolutely tiny space so that Stiles is facing the shelving and Derek’s a line of heat pressed against his back.

Stiles looks over his shoulder and he sees Derek is staring down at his ass, mouth open and pupils blown. He’s rubbing his dick along the cleft of Stiles’ ass. 

The fact that it’s getting slicker and faster, Stiles realises, is because Derek’s leaking precome all over him.

Stiles grabs his own dick, which is still trapped in his boxers, and squeezes hard to stop himself from coming untouched.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles whines, “Fuck me. Derek, listen to me, put your dick in me.” 

Derek’s body shakes, laughing, pleased.

“Fuck. I want to. I want to so bad. So bad, but I can’t. I haven’t got lube,” Derek grunts, frustrated.

Stiles presses his ass back onto Derek’s dick on his next thrust and they both cry out when the rim of his hole catches the head of Derek’s dick. Derek grabs him by the hips, stilling him.

“I fucked myself on my fingers before my flight this morning just in case I bumped into you... I wanted to take the edge off,” Stiles grabs onto the shelf in front of his face because the way Derek’s body jerks at his words shunts him forward.

“You’re not lying.” Derek snarls, pressing his blunt dick against Stiles’ opening.

“Have you seen you? I used to jerk it twice a day when I lived here, three times on pack meeting nights for fear of you or one of the others realising how much I wanted you to fuck me into your mattress,” Stiles rambles.

Derek growls and it sounds positively feral. 

Stiles knows he’s pushing him to breaking point. 

Stiles takes a second and realises he knew with every shove into a locker, every sarcastic comment to each other, that they were always going to end up like this. Fucking frantically, desperate for each other, every touch like they’re still arguing. 

Maybe he didn’t quite envision fucking in a cupboard though, Stiles muses.

Derek brings a hand to Stiles’ mouth, mirroring earlier and Stiles licks it obscenely.

Stiles groans loudly when Derek pushes two thick, wet fingers into him without pre-amble, checking he’s still loose enough from earlier.

The way Derek scissors his fingers apart suggests he’s not satisfied and the look that Stiles got at his thick, uncut cock would lead him to believe that maybe Derek’s right... but Stiles wants to feel it.

“I’m good, Der, fuck, just do it. Fuck me,” He clenches down onto Derek’s hand to punctuate his point and Derek removes his fingers with a grunt.

Stiles feels him grab a cheek in each hand and he feels the cold air on his exposed hole as Derek spreads him wide. He flushes at the feeling of being held open and he knows Derek’s watching him.

It’s nothing compared to the full body flush he has when Derek spits right onto his open hole and he digs his nails into the shelf and groans gutturally.

Derek holds him open as he lines his cock up and it’s a good job that Stiles doesn’t want it slow because Derek presses into him mercilessly, his dick stretching him open as he makes room for himself. 

Stiles chokes out a cry when Derek finally bottoms out. He sniffs his neck to check Stiles’ pain tolerance, biting him gently.

“Too much? Fuck it, you’re so tight,” Derek growls.

“Do it Der. I’ve been waiting for this for four years,” Stiles reassures him, wriggling his ass. He feels stretched obscenely on Derek’s dick.

Satisfied and trusting him, Derek doesn’t give him a second more to adjust and instead of rocking into him slowly he pulls right out and shoves his way back in again, right to the hilt.

Stiles is pushed into the shelving with the force of Derek’s thrusts and when he goes to get a hand on his pulsing dick in his boxers, Derek grabs his wrists and pulls him back upright, flush against his body.

He doesn’t slow his pace, he just puts Stiles’ hands back against the shelf to brace them both, bending Stiles’ body forward slightly. Derek grabs his hips and fucks him with a punishing rhythm, dick sliding in and out of him. Stiles’ tight hole sucks at the thick head of Derek’s’ cock every time he leaves his body, as if trying to keep him inside.

The sound of skin meeting skin is ridiculously loud in the small space and Stiles can feel he’s going to come.

Derek pushes in closer to him and he gets his hand around his neck. Squeezing gently he pulls him back to stand upright again. Derek bites down on his shoulder and when Derek gets a fingertip into him alongside where his hole is stretched around his dick, Stiles is a goner.

He comes inside his boxers, dick trapped, untouched, on a shout. He clenches down tightly as his orgasm hits, milking Derek’s dick for all he’s worth.

Derek grunts and Stiles can feel him emptying come deep inside him, painting his insides.

Derek shudders against him and holds him close, not pulling out, bracing one hand on the shelf above Stiles’ head, supporting them both. He entwines his fingers with Stiles’ and he rests his head against the back of Stiles’ neck.

When Stiles gets his breath back he wriggles free, feeling Derek’s dick slipping out of him. He manages to turn in Derek’s arms. 

Derek’s jeans are around his ankles, mirroring his own and Stiles laughs at the sight they make. 

“Well that was the hottest thing that’s ever fucking happened in my whole life,” Stiles grins at him.

Derek grunts in agreement and yanks him in by his ass, pulling his boxers up for him. He leaves his hand inside, cupping Stiles’ cheek. 

Derek kisses him softly in total contrast to the desperation from earlier. Stiles groans when Derek feels around his wet hole as he fingers the come leaking from him.

Derek brings his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers, eyes never leaving Stiles’.

“You... I take it back, in fact, that right there was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Stiles groans, feeling his dick harden again.

Derek freezes, cocking his head.

“Shit,” Derek bites out, yanking his own jeans up and gesturing frantically for Stiles to do the same.

They bump heads in the rush and Derek manages to shove Stiles behind him just as Stiles hears the door to the classroom bang against the wall.

Stiles leans over Derek’s shoulder. The Werewolf is a tense line of muscle at his front.

“Fuck, is it back?” Stiles whispers as quietly as he can.

“No. It’s something worse...” Derek whispers back, reaching up and turning off the light.

Stiles grits his teeth against the threat, ready to defend Derek against anything.

He can feel his gun at his feet and prepares to grab it as soon as Derek springs into action.

Derek holds onto the handle of the closet when it wiggles up and down, being tested from the outside.

Stiles holds his breath, clinging to Derek’s shoulders.

“Dudes? Why does it smell like jizz in here...?” Scott’s voice is loud and accusing.

Derek breaks the handle off the inside of the closet door while Stiles smothers his laughter into the back of Derek’s neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Just borrowing the teen wolf characters. Hope you enjoy x


End file.
